


These Hit and Run Sensations

by finkpishnets



Category: iCarly
Genre: Coda, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Freddie gets hit by a truck saving Carly and Sam freaks out.</i> Coda to ‘iSaved Your Life’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Hit and Run Sensations

**Author's Note:**

> For the hs_bingo prompt ‘making out’.

Freddie gets hit by a truck saving Carly and Sam freaks out.

She calls 911, is running to the Shay’s apartment screaming for Spencer before she’s really aware of what’s happening, and she can’t think, can’t breathe until the doctor tells them he’s going to be okay, a broken leg, sprained wrist, and a concussion but nothing more serious. She goes home, hides in her room and watches the way her hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

She tries not to think about why.

The next morning she’s feeling better, lets herself get caught up in the game with Spencer and doesn’t think about Freddie or the accident until school’s out and she’s already on the way to his apartment, a bucket of fried chicken and a large bottle of soda in hand that she plans on sneaking past Mrs. Benson. He manages not to look pleased to see her though the relief at company is glaringly obvious even behind his “What are _you_ doing here?” and Sam’s able to alleviate her worries that he’d actually slipped into a coma or _died_ or something overnight.

She pretends to begrudge sharing the chicken with him, calls him several variations of ‘Fredork’, and then leaves when she hears his mom’s high pitched screech coming closer.

She’s in the corridor between the Benson and Shay apartments before she realizes she’s smiling. She pinches her own arm to make herself stop because, _okay_ , there has been enough weirdness the last few days without adding _that_ to the list.

Everything seems to be getting back to normal, at least as normal as life ever is with them, and Sam’s stupidly relieved, pushes the events of the last few days far back in her mind somewhere alongside math and that time her mom thought it’d be a good idea to explain labor in excruciating detail.

Then Carly tells her that she kissed Freddie and everything stops.

Carly slams the door, her skin pale, cheeks flushed, and stuttering in that stupid adorable way of hers, and Sam has to fiercely remind herself that Carly is her _best friend_ , damn it, and it would not be remotely cool to follow her in and tackle her to the ground. However much she maybe kinda really wants to. She’s so mad she doesn’t even _try_ to control her train of thought, lets herself feel angry and hurt and small _just for a moment_ , but a moment is plenty of time for the realization to sink in.

She’s _jealous_.

Well, crap.

On the way home she beats up some college kid trying to show his friends how ‘tough’ he is by heckling an old, homeless dude, and afterwards she feels marginally better, enough for her fists to unfurl and her mind to stop whiting out anyway. Her mom’s passed out in front of an _All My Children_ marathon and Sam almost wants to wake her up just so they can shout at each other for a while, but then she’d probably end up having to go fill a ‘prescription’ or cut her toenails or something and she really can’t deal with that on top of everything else.

The thing is, Carly doesn’t just _kiss_ guys, she _dates_ them. Sam’s pretty sure she wouldn’t be feeling so bad if it was really just a kiss, just a ‘hey, thanks for saving my life dude!’, but Freddie’s had it bad for Carly since they met and Carly’s the sort of girl to hold hands and share spaghetti and be surrounded by freaking singing birds and crap, and really they’re going to be nauseatingly cute for the foreseeable future, Sam’s sure of it.

It’s kind of enough to make her want to bang her head against the wall repeatedly.

She’s right, too. They walk into school side by side, and, if Freddie didn’t need them for his crutches, they’d probably be holding hands. And the thing is, she _knows_ she’s jealous, she _knows_ it’s not really any of her business, but she can’t help it; Carly kisses Freddie goodbye, sweet and chaste, and Sam opens her mouth.

She tells Freddie that Carly only likes him because he saved her life, tells him he’s Carly’s bacon, and Freddie…Freddie listens. Sure, he tells her she’s jealous and doesn’t realize how right he is, but he still _listens_. Sam’s not sure what to make of that.

She throws herself into annihilating Spencer, sets the perfect trap and watches his face as he falls in a fit of paint and despair, and does not under any circumstance think about the fact that Carly and Freddie are alone upstairs and possibly ( _probably_ ) locking lips. At all.

And if she maybe breaks every plate in their (never used anyway) kitchen when she gets home, then that is totally unrelated and a completely valid use of her time.

She goes to school the next morning feeling tense and agitated and rolls her eyes when Gibby takes one look at her and runs screaming in the other direction. Carly is all smiles and enthusiasm when they meet at their lockers, rushes off to class when the bell rings and doesn’t even ask Sam if she’s coming because she’s a good friend like that.

Sam’s half considering raiding the kitchen and facing the lunch lady’s wrath when she finds herself cornered in an empty hallway by an angry nerd.

“It’s all your fault,” Freddie says, glaring as he places his crutches either side of her legs making it much harder for her to escape without pushing him over and possibly hospitalizing him again. Which she’s not actually above doing if he doesn’t let her go _right the hell now_.

“Move, Fredwierd,” she hisses, and he must be really cheesed off ‘cause all he does is narrow his gaze further, his mouth a tight line.

“I told her that she didn’t really love me, that she only _thought_ she did,” he says, and his voice is low and kind of dangerous, and there are butterflies in Sam’s stomach. “I told her I was her bacon!”

Sam smirks. “Good on you, Fredly, you finally did something smart.”

“Smart? I turned Carly down!”

“Yeah,” Sam says, and every muscle in her body is straining forward against his grip, though whether to get away or get closer she doesn’t know. “And now you won’t end up a sobbing, pathetic mess when Carly realizes it herself.”

Freddie scoffs, laughs under his breath a little hysterically, and Sam totally knows how he’s feeling.

“You know the worst bit?” Freddie says, looking at her directly, and Sam’s sort of stupidly impressed with how in charge he’s being. “I already knew before you told me.”

“What?” Sam says, and if her voice is hushed, breathy, then that’s totally because of how he’s crowding her against the wall and she has, like, _no_ personal space.

“Yeah,” he says, and Sam’s pretty sure it’s not her imagination that he moves closer. “When Carly first kissed me, I knew. It was perfect, sweet and soft and everything I’ve fantasized about. Everything I wanted. Except for how it felt like a dream.”

“So? Isn’t that the idea?”

Freddie laughs and it’s mirthless and bitter and Sam aches from how much she wants to reach forward and touch. “You’d think so, right? But no. When you kiss someone, someone who wants you as much as you want them, you shouldn’t feel like you’re dreaming, like the world has stopped, you should feel like everything’s moving too fast and however much you might want to slow it down, you can’t.”

“How do you know?” Sam says, and it comes out biting even though she’s watching the way his mouth moves with a kind of desperate fascination. “The only other person you’ve ever kissed is me.”

“Exactly,” he says, and closes the distance between them.

Sam’s heart is beating fast enough inside her chest that it hurts. Freddie’s not being gentle, he’s kissing her hard, pressing her against the wall tight enough that a locker handle is digging sharply into her back, and it’s nothing like their first kiss at all.

She doesn’t even think before kissing back, and it’s a conflict of push and pull as they both try and take control. His lips are stupidly soft, a likely product of his mom’s skincare dictatorship, and Sam doesn’t think she’s ever been happier for Vaseline in her life. Neither of them knows what they’re doing, not really, but instead of being terrifying it sends a happy jolt down her spine to know that, once again, they’re learning together.

When Freddie lets one of his crutches drop to slide his hand across her hip, Sam darts her tongue out across the seam of his lips, and when Sam opens her mouth, _just a little_ , Freddie takes advantage of it, deepening the kiss into something that has her skin thrumming and her toes curling in her sneakers.

They’re _making out_ in a school corridor whilst their peers are enslaved to their teacher’s droning, and Sam’s done a lot of things with the time she spends _not_ attending class but this feel by far the most daring.

Eventually they have to break for air, and Sam doesn’t even push Freddie away when he leans his forehead against her shoulder, his breath ragged. She’s pretty sure she’s not doing much better; there’s a flush spreading over her cheeks and she’s intensely grateful for Freddie’s weight and the locker behind her because she’s not sure she’d still be standing otherwise.

“I should get to class,” Freddie says eventually, tilting his head sideways just enough that his words are spoken against her neck, and _damn_ if she doesn’t have to bite back a moan at that.

“Right,” she says, and her voice is as wrecked as she feared it’d be.

“Right,” he echoes, but it still takes him a few minutes to drag himself away.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, and she thinks he probably meant it as a statement but it comes out more like a question.

“Yeah,” she says, because really, it’s not like she could avoid him even if she wanted to. And she kind of really doesn’t want to. _Crap_.

“Okay,” he says, and he’s looking at her mouth, his eyes dark, and Sam seriously cannot take much more of this or she’s going to explode.

“Just go already,” she says with a stupid amount of effort. “You probably won’t even get detention if you play up the injured hero shtick.”

“Hey!” he says, and there’s a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, something almost familiar. “I _am_ an injured hero.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says, rolling her eyes, and they stare at each other a moment longer before her turns to leave.

Just before he reaches the corner he pauses. “So,” he says, “there’s no way I’m bacon to you too, right?”

Sam lets out a short, sharp burst of unexpected laughter, and it’s a loaded question but it’s also so _them_ , and she can feel the muscles in her shoulders loosening and the butterflies in her stomach settling down.

“No way in hell dude,” she says, and watches as he ducks his head to hide his grin as he keeps walking.

 _This is going to complicate everything_ , she thinks once he’s disappeared.

It says kind of a lot that she can’t bring herself to do much more than smile and not care.


End file.
